The Invisible Black Woman

As they say back home, I had a wul heap to get off my chest at the end of day 3. The debrief in its entirety follows below.

I know what you may be thinking, why the hell would you post this? Okay, maybe you’re not thinking that. But here’s the thing: you may be entertaining going into treatment. It may be something you have never done in your entire life, and you have no idea what to expect. Part of your hesitance may stem from not knowing what the heck it’s gonna be like. My sharing, warts and all, is me hoping it might help you feel less apprehensive. Or, maybe, feel less alone if you are feeling some of the very feelings I did during outpatient therapy. This is my way of saying (or singing if you’re a Michael Jackson fan): you are not alone; I am here with you. Seriously though, whatever it is you’re feeling—even if you go to each session internally kicking and screaming—just go. You never know when you’ll hear the thing you need to help you break through to the other side, metaphorically speaking.

All right, so it’s officially day three of IOP. Woohoo. It always starts off rough. I’m not saying it didn’t end rough or that it ended great, but I guess it wasn’t terrible. At the end, I don’t know how I feel about it. I am tired though.

So where was I? Right, day three of IOP. It was different, I guess. It started off with what was supposed to be music therapy. The group lead was interesting, with a lot of personality going on. They let the group choose between Pictionary and Charades. The majority chose Pictionary, and I was honestly grateful because I didn’t feel like acting out a damn thing. True to my brand of antisocial grouchiness, I did not participate because I wasn’t required to. I had some paperwork I had to do anyway, so I used that as an excuse to step out.

The first part of group always starts with the alternative therapies like music and drama. Then they stick processing in the middle, and the last part varies. Yesterday it was one thing, and today it was Icebreaker Jenga, where we played Jenga and had to ask someone in the group a question. They would answer, and then it would be their turn to move a piece from the tower and ask someone else a question. It wasn’t just icebreakers as the category, but that’s what everybody pretty much gravitated to. There were also topics like mindfulness, self-esteem, and one other I’m not remembering. The last one was peer-written questions with cards filled in by staff.

I was feeling quite anxious about the whole thing. I also didn’t feel like being there. Inevitably, I got called on. I knew exactly who was going to call on me—the same person who went out of their way to say hello to me today. I know I sound like such a miser right now, and it’s not my intention. I just kind of wish people would allow you to process in the time you need and stop trying to shove you into their timeframe, if that makes sense.

This person, let’s call her Sarah, seems like the type that wants everyone to like her. Maybe this is a judgment on my part, but she seemed to have this need to connect with everyone. I try to keep mostly to myself when I come into group. I pick a solitary couch so no one sits next to me, not only for personal space reasons but also because we still have remnants of the “panini” circling around. So I like to socially distance because it makes me feel comfortable and safe, both physically and from a health standpoint.

When Sarah comes in, I try to avoid eye contact with everyone because you hope people can pick up a cue. If you’re not making eye contact, you’re not trying to make chitchat. You’re just there to do the work. Granted, group is all about connections, but I’m not there yet. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I am not at a place where I am ready to accept group therapy as something viable for myself. But I’m trying to get there so I keep showing up.

So Sarah comes in, and I’m not making eye contact because I’m not trying to talk to people. Everybody’s settling in, and I hear someone say, “Hey, _______.” I try to ignore her, but I know I’m the only person with that name in the room. Then she says it a little louder, so I have to turn around. She’s like, “Hey, how’s it going?” and I’m like, “Hey.” Not only were we already kind of getting ready for the session, but it was just weird. I’m not trying to make friends here. I’m not trying to build friendships. I’m just trying to get through therapy. That’s all I’m trying to do.

I kind of sort of made eye contact, but I tried to keep it lowkey because I wasn’t trying to have her feel like we could have a conversation after. Honestly, it was only day three, week one. I’m not trying to be sharing what I’m dealing with. Maybe I will at some point, but right now that’s not where I’m at. I think it’s commendable that other people feel comfortable sharing, and I think that’s cool if it helps them. But that’s not where I’m at. Maybe it’ll change down the road. We’ll see how it goes and how I feel.

Right now, I’m not feeling it. I don’t like it. I want it to go away, or better said, I want to go away from this place and not come back.

Like I said, the first part of group was Pictionary, which I sat out. I wasn’t asked to participate. Then after processing we jumped into Jenga, where they ask questions, and you do Jenga. Of course, even though I’m not making eye contact, I knew what was gonna happen. Here comes Sarah: “hey, _____.” I’m like, of course, you’re going to ask me my first damn question! I answered her then punted it to the next person. This went on for like an hour.

We kept the tower up for a good while, and I’m proud to say I didn’t drop any of the towers. So that was cool. If I’m being honest, group is starting to grow on me like a fungus… I hope you didn’t come here thinking I was gonna say it’s sunshine and rainbows and life changing. If you’re the type of person that craves or enjoys connection with other people, group therapy will be right up your alley. If you’re more introverted like me and not really into sharing your entire life with strangers, this might be tough. I’m hoping it’ll get better next week and with each day I come back. Besides, I have to complete the program because it is tied to my work disability. It’s not something I can opt out of.

Personally, I prefer one-on-one therapy. It feels less vulnerable, and I feel less exposed. But I think part of the treatment is allowing yourself to be exposed to others, which is the goal, I imagine. If you are not in a group, then you cannot be exposed. It wasn’t horrible, but I have not assimilated. I’m giving it time, trying to be open, and showing up. I’ll do my best to work the program and see what happens.

I’m also trying to find the positives in group. There are times that it is kind of funny, and I do get some laughs. But I still don’t particularly like anyone in my group. I’m very apprehensive about anyone trying to make a connection with me. I don’t want to talk to people, and the idea of someone trying to befriend me makes me uncomfortable. I’m hoping I give off enough Grouchy McGroucherson vibes that this won’t be an issue.

I’m not there to make friends; I’m there to get better. I just wish there was a way to do that without people feeling the need to connect with me. So that’s where I’m at.

I also had my first therapy session, or rather my psychosocial assessment, with my therapist, Carrie. I answered a laundry list of questions, and it took about an hour and some change. It went really well. I really like her as a therapist. She’s technically my clinical therapist for the duration of my treatment program, but I also have my outside therapist, who is really good.

Carrie is really down-to-earth and easy to talk to. We found out we’re both from the same island, which was funny in a “what a small world” kind of way. It’s cool to be able to connect with someone who understands the cultural nuances of what I say. It’s great to have that kind of connection in therapy.

Now, I know some of you might think it’s contradictory that I’m comfortable connecting with Carrie but not with the group. It’s not the same thing. With Carrie, it’s one-on-one, and I feel less exposed. With the group, it feels like I’m baring my entire life to strangers, and I’m not ready for that level of vulnerability yet.

This debrief ended pretty abruptly because by the time I got toward the end, I was home and hubby was waiting for me by the elevators. He walked to the car and opened the door for me.

“Another day in paradise, huh?”

“Wasn’t it just!”